Art as a Foundation of Meaning
Martin Heidegger’s seminal essay The Origin of the Work of Art, reminds us that art is not mere aesthetic representation, but a way of revealing the world. A work of art establishes a world, opens a space where the truth of being comes into presence.
The earliest sculptures and artistic creations almost invariably depict female deities. A pattern that reflects art’s intrinsic connection to creation, generation, and reality transformation. Art operated as a conduit for the sacred, serving as both origin point and transformational catalyst.
This understanding permeates ancient cultures. In Ancient Egypt, paintings, reliefs, and sculptures found in tombs were not decorative but functioned as activation devices ensuring the continuation of existence after death. These works were engaged with rather than simply admired.
The same applies to the pyramids and ceremonial sculptures of Mesoamerica. The Pyramid of Quetzalcóatl in Teotihuacan reveals itself as a true portal to other spiritual dimensions: mountains are engraved into the ground, volcanoes flow with liquid mercury, and the sky is represented by a celestial vault made of pyrite, which lights up as initiates pass through with flaming torches. This rite transmits initiation to priestesses and to men destined to become warriors. In such contexts, art is not merely contemplated, it is activated. The artwork becomes a threshold, a presence, an action. It opens the world.
In Asia, the spiritual sense of art remains central. Classical Chinese landscape painting, Tibetan mandalas, or Japanese wabi-sabi ceramics carry millennia-old philosophies. These are not objects for distant appreciation, but practices of attention, contemplation, and humility.
The Transformation into Market Object
Over the centuries, art has undergone a process of institutionalization and objectification, eventually becoming, with the rise of modern capitalism, a financial asset. In 1936, philosopher Walter Benjamin offered a seminal analysis of this trajectory in his essay The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. He examined the effects of new technologies, such as photography and cinema, on the production and reception of art. According to Benjamin, the ability to mass reproduce images strips the artwork of its “aura”, its unique and unrepeatable presence in time and space. As a result, art loses its singularity and is absorbed into the logic of modern consumption, becoming a cultural commodity.
Decades later, in Ways of Seeing, 1972, critic John Berger expanded on this idea by showing how the consumption of images is deeply tied to structures of power and class. In capitalist society, art increasingly functions as a symbol of status, purchased and displayed less for its intrinsic aesthetic value and more for its social and financial significance.
The Belle Époque marked a turning point in the commercialization of art, as the market expanded in response to the growing demand from a bourgeois collector class. Initially marginalized movements like Impressionism, rejected by academic institutions, found a place in commercial galleries. Artists such as Monet and Van Gogh, though underappreciated in their lifetimes, were later canonized and their works highly valued, illustrating the increasing commodification and industrialization of the art system.
In recent years, this process has only intensified, and the pandemic accelerated it further. What were once public gatherings and celebrations, such as art auctions, have turned into digital platforms where artworks change hands in minutes, often without ever being seen in person. What began as a temporary digital solution during lockdowns became the new norm. The art market now operates at an industrial pace, an insatiable and unstoppable machine.
In response, some voices have begun to challenge this model. Tim Blum, founder of Blum Gallery, made headlines when he closed his galleries in Los Angeles and Tokyo after three decades to focus on special projects and longer-term collaborations. “This is not about the market. This is about the system,” he stated. “I never made exhibitions to sell art. I always sold art so I could make exhibitions.”
Crisis of Model: From Speculation to Saturation
The art market is undergoing a profound rupture, not just a cyclical downturn, but a structural unraveling. According to the Artnet Intelligence Report (July 2025), global auction sales plummeted by 27.3% in 2024, signaling a widespread crisis of confidence. Works that once symbolized financial security are now depreciating in value.
An example of this is Jeff Koons, widely recognized as an established artist, whose sculpture Train, 1986 sold for approximately $33.7 million at a Christie’s auction in 2014. However, between 2022 and 2024, similar sculptures by the artist raised only $16.9 million, a significant drop in market value. Meanwhile, artist Rashid Johnson, considered an established name in the contemporary blue chip circuit, had one of his paintings purchased for $816.000 in 2022 and resold for only $292.000 two years later.
The contraction hits hardest in the mid-market range, between $80.000 and $800.000, where inflated prices can no longer be sustained and collectors turn to auctions in search of bargains. The model of rapid resale and artificial appreciation appears to have reached its breaking point.
Even billionaires are rethinking their strategies. The Wall Street Journal recently reported that art has become the worst-performing asset in their portfolios. While global wealth has grown, art allocation dropped from 24% in 2022 to just 15% in 2024. Speculators are retreating in the face of declining liquidity and unpredictability, which may paradoxically make room for a renewed valuation of the immaterial.
At the same time, the traditional gallery model is collapsing. Between 2023 and 2025, a wave of independent spaces David Lewis, JTT, Cheim & Read, Marlborough, Real Fine Arts shut down across New York, London, and other capitals. Their closures, along with the cancellation of the ADA fair and the recent dissolutions of Blum Gallery and Venus Over Manhattan, mark more than a market correction. These are not isolated incidents: they represent the failure of a system built on untenable foundations, soaring rents, an exhausting dependence on art fairs, and an uneven playing field dominated by mega-galleries.
The Breakdown of the Speculative Logic
Burnout has become a quiet epidemic among gallerists, artists, and collectors alike, often the final catalyst before withdrawal. Behind the glossy façade of high-profile events and global fairs, the art world is operating on a rhythm that outpaces human capacity. The pressure for constant visibility, productivity, and social performance leaves little room for reflection. In this ecosystem, the demand is always for more, more acquisitions, more meetings, more dinners, more returns. But time remains finite. When do we stop to breathe, to feel, to simply be?
In such a system, the self is often sacrificed, unless we dare to reclaim it. What’s being eroded isn’t just energy, but meaning: the capacity to share insight, foster access, and create truly human exchanges. The art market today, saturated with events and information, offers little space for presence or contemplation. Art has been commodified on an industrial scale, feeding a speculative machine that rarely pauses. Within this machinery, even something as simple as a slow, honest conversation has become a luxury, when it should be the norm.
And yet, signs of change are emerging, not from institutions, but from a generational shift. Millennials and Gen Z are reshaping the criteria for acquisition. Instead of wall trophies, they seek works with symbolic depth, institutional relevance, and emotional connection. They value sensory experiences, direct encounters with artists, and coherent narratives over short-term hype. This shift demands more than new formats, it calls for a new ethic in our relationship to art.
We are facing a historic opportunity: to rethink the system not just so it can survive, but so it can make sense again. The hollowing out of old structures can give way to a market that is more transparent, sustainable, and centered on legacy, not just profit. But changing the art world is no simple task. Stopping the gears while still inside them requires courage, persistence, and above all, awareness. There are no quick fixes. But it is through conversations like this, ones that honestly face the impasses and potential of the present, that we open space for new ways of existing and acting.
The other day, I visited the Étrangement Bizarre exhibition at the Centre Pompidou, featuring Jean-Jacques Lebel’s anarchic, deeply personal collection. The sheer intensity of the experience called for pause, not another exhibition or gallery visit. I wanted to digest, and understand what I had connected to, not consume. And I think we must give ourselves permission to move at our own rhythm.
Going against the current isn’t necessarily an act of rebellion, it’s an act of awareness. It’s about recognizing how profoundly alienated we’ve become, even within spaces that were once sacred. Because true contact with art demands slowness. It demands silence, openness, and a readiness to receive what is subtle. The sublime cannot be scheduled.
Perhaps the future of art does not lie in a return to the past, but in the rediscovery of its original function: as a force of symbolic, emotional, and spiritual transformation. To see art again not as a product, but as a living language, one that, as Heidegger once wrote, helps bring into presence that which remains hidden.
At SSAA, we don’t consider art as a business but as a living force that connects souls across time and spaces in inner truths. We marry precision with presence, analytical minds with intuitive hearts. With every acquisition, we honor not just value, but the profound story that comes with it.